


i'll be watching you

by hepaticas



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-05
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-28 11:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hepaticas/pseuds/hepaticas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark worries about Eduardo after the dilution. So he hacks his webcam and spies on him. Naturally. Originally posted on the kinkmeme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll be watching you

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [i'll be watching you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1743503) by [sandy9ice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandy9ice/pseuds/sandy9ice)



It starts because Mark goes to a conference in D.C. and Eduardo is there. 

Well, more accurately, it starts because Mark goes to a conference in D.C. and Eduardo is there and he looks like shit. His suit is neat and clean and fitted and his hair is slicked back, smooth and perfect, not a hair out of place, but there are dark circles under his eyes and a deep furrow to his brow. Mark watches him all night, watches him drink too much and charm no one – in fact he hardly talks to anyone all night, he just drinks and scowls and eventually leaves, looking ragged and worn, with his hands shaking at his sides.

And then Mark doesn’t see him again for a year, and he spends the whole year dwelling on the circles under Eduardo’s eyes and attempting to worm information out of Chris, until one day Chris looks up at him from behind his desk and says, “If you’re so worried about Eduardo, why don’t you go talk to _him_?”

“I’m not worried,” Mark replies immediately. He sits up straighter on Chris’s couch, narrows his eyes. “Why would I be _worried_ about _Eduardo_?”

“Right,” Chris says, fixing Mark with a LookTM for a moment before turning back to his work. “In that case, you won’t mind my asking you to stop asking me about him.”

“No,” Mark scoffs. “Of course not.”

Chris doesn’t even look up. “Great,” he says. “Now get out of my office.”

“I could fire you,” Mark says thoughtfully as he gets up and heads for the door.

“Please do,” Chris answers. Mark ignores him and heads back to his own office.

And the thing is, okay – Mark isn’t worried. He’s really not, alright, it’s just that he wants to know that Eduardo is okay and that he is being taken care of and that someone has smoothed out that furrow in his brow. Some people, who will remain unnamed, but who work for Mark, might say that that sounds suspiciously like being worried, but Mark would fire those people, because they are wrong, and he does not employ people who are wrong.

Anyway, that’s how it starts, because Mark is not worried, but he does want to know things and if Chris won’t tell him, he has to find another way, which is why, after leaving Chris’s office, he finds himself hacking into Eduardo’s webcam.

The actual hacking takes maybe twenty minutes, and it’s a little sloppy, but not sloppy enough that he could get caught. It’s too easy, really, and he makes a note to send Chris some articles about internet safety that will hopefully freak him out enough that he’ll forward them to Eduardo, because his laptop is severely under protected. 

There is a pause, once he’s finished his hacking, where his screen flickers briefly between black and gray, and then the program comes to life properly and he’s looking at an office. The top of an empty desk chair is visible, a black jacket draped over the back, and on the wall behind it, two big abstract paintings, all shades of red and orange. If Mark turns his volume up, he can hear the muted hum of conversation outside. For a few minutes, nothing happens and Mark feels stupid, watching an empty chair, and then:

A door opens somewhere off camera, and the sound of conversation is abruptly much louder. Someone calls, “Thanks for your help, Mr. Saverin,” and Mark tenses in his chair.

“No problem,” comes the answer and then there is the click of a door closing and the background noise is silenced. He hears paper rustling and then Eduardo comes around the side of his desk and into view, reading from a manila folder. At first, he is too close to the camera, so all Mark can see is his shirt tucked into his trousers, the black leather of his belt, the bottom of his yellow tie, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He takes all of these things in and tucks them away for later, makes a note of them – _remember: Eduardo’s yellow tie, the line of his forearm, the pin-stripe on his pants._

“Real time ID verification,” Eduardo mutters, and Mark has a sudden flashback of coding while Eduardo studied on his bed, occasionally reading bits of his textbooks out loud. Eduardo makes a thoughtful sound and then shuts the folder and drops it on his desk before falling sort of carelessly into his chair with enough force to send it rolling back a few inches. He tilts his head back, rolls his neck, and when he sits up and rolls forward in his chair, Mark thinks distractedly that he looks good. There are no dark circles under his eyes, no frown lines around his brow. He looks relaxed – untroubled. He leans forward and squints at something on his laptop then, his face crinkling up in confusion, and Mark panics and slaps frantically at his keyboard until the program closes.

Well, he thinks. That’s that.

(Except it totally isn’t.)  
-

He doesn’t do it again for a month. He tells himself there is no reason to do it again, because he knows now, that Eduardo is okay.

And then one day, when he has been awake for almost forty eight hours, and has spent the last eight of those hours trying to fix a bug with the albums, he glances at the world clock widget in the corner of his screen and thinks, _it’s five am in Singapore._ And that’s when he does it again.

This time Eduardo is at home. He is sitting at what Mark guesses is a dining room table, because he can see a breakfast bar behind him, complete with leather bar stools, and behind that he can see a stainless steel refrigerator surrounded by granite countertops. The room is brightly lit and there’s a vase of flowers on the counter behind Eduardo’s head. Eduardo himself is wearing a pair of reading glasses and sporting sleep mussed hair. There’s a bowl of cereal in front of him and his shirt appears to be freshly ironed, but it’s only buttoned up halfway. As Mark watches, he leans in close to the computer to squint at something on the screen, his spoon stopped halfway to his mouth, and then he laughs and leans back again, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Mark watches him eat his breakfast and laugh at whatever he’s reading until he drops a spoonful of milk on his shirt and, with a muttered, ‘shit,’ gets up and runs off into some other part of the apartment, shutting his laptop with one hand as he goes.

Mark exits the program then and takes a minute to justify what he’s just done. He had to be sure. One happy Eduardo could have been a fluke. He had to check again. It was scientific method or something. He goes back to coding, works until he fixes the bug and when he surfaces to find a glass of water and a tuna sandwich left for him by his assistant, he pointedly doesn’t think of Wardo leaving him the same things.

Later, he will look back and realize that this is when the dam breaks. Now, he eats his sandwich and wonders if someone leaves Eduardo food when he works late. Probably not. He’s too well balanced to work late in the first place.

-

It’s a Tuesday and Chris and Dustin are in Mark’s office. They’re talking about Lost, and Dustin is trying very hard to convince Chris that he is _actually Sawyer, really, I’m so misunderstood and hot and I am great at nicknames_. Mark is dividing his attention between work and their conversation, his headphones angled to cover only ear and a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Dustin says, “Also, I’ve been thinking, and if I’m Sawyer – which I am – I think that makes you Locke, Chris,” and Chris sits up and splutters indignantly, but before he can respond, his phone rings.

Mark doesn't think anything of the ringing phone until Chris says, “I have to take this,” and then instead of answering where he is, he gets up and leaves the room. There is only one person that Chris leaves the room for. Dustin says something along the lines of Mark being the group’s Charlie, or something, but Mark ignores him because he is already hacking.

Eduardo is in his office again, leaning back in his chair, his feet up on his desk. The top half of his face is cut off by the screen, but Mark can see his smile and his cell phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder.

“Things are good here,” he’s saying, twirling a pen in one hand. His tie is green today and his sleeves aren't rolled up and Mark can see shiny silver cuff links glinting every time he moves. “My neighbor’s cat had kittens,” he says, “I’m thinking of adopting one. How’re things there?”

Mark looks up in time to see Chris say something that corresponds with Eduardo tipping farther back in his chair as he laughs. “Same as always then?” He says, and then, “How about Sean? How’s he?”

A pause. Mark can see Chris talking outside again. Dustin is still going on about Lost and Mark mutters something vague about being Jack, because he’s the leader, solely because he knows it will set Dustin off and hopefully that will keep him from coming around to see what he’s doing.

“No,” Eduardo says suddenly in response to something Chris has said. He drops his feet from his desk and leans forward enough that Mark can see his nose wrinkle as he continues, “We broke up. He had daddy issues.” He pauses, listening, and then laughs again and says, “I know, right?” 

He seems about to say something else, but then there is a knock at his door and his head whips around to look. “Damn,” he says mildly. “I’ve gotta go, Chris. I’ll talk to you later though, yeah?” He starts to sit up and then pauses, frowns. “I don’t know,” he says. “I’m not – I’ll think about, okay? I’ve really gotta go.”

Mark watches him hang up and call someone into his office, smiling brightly, and then Chris comes in and says, loudly, “If you are anyone from Lost, Dustin, you are Hurley,” and Dustin squawks, and Mark closes the window.

-  
Scientific method, Mark reasons, requires quite a lot of tests. So while his curiosity is obviously satisfied now – and he’s still not worried, thanks for asking – he figures it’s best to do it right, and doing it right requires that he keep checking in. So he does. Just to be sure.

Over the course of a month, he watches Eduardo do a lot of things. He watches him shave while dancing to a Sinatra song that is playing from his laptop, which is balanced on the toilet. He cuts his neck and tuts at himself as he dabs the blood up with a bit of toilet paper. He watches him read a book in a pair of sweats, his socked feet tucked under a sofa cushion, his laptop half open on the coffee table. He watches him eat toast at the breakfast bar. When he’s finished with the toast, he licks strawberry jam from his fingers and sighs. He watches him playing with his new kitten, swinging a toy mouse around by its tail and laughing. He watches him attempt to bake a pie, alternately swearing and laughing and squinting at the recipe that’s open on his screen. When the pie is finished, he takes his laptop to the living room and sits on the couch and eats pie straight from the tin, with flour still in his hair and a look of pride on his face. 

He watches quite a lot and all of the results point to Eduardo being happy. Mark feels simultaneously better and worse.

And then, on a Saturday, when he checks in, he gets something a little different. Eduardo is sitting on his couch, wearing a pair of striped pajamas and no shirt. It’s dark, the only light coming from the open laptop, so his face is split starkly between blue light and dark shadow. He’s leaning forward, elbows on his knees and his forehead resting in the palm of one hand while the other holds his phone to his ear.

“I know,” he’s saying, “I get that, but – what are you even talking about? What does that mean? I don’t think you understand what I’m doing – no, that’s not what I _meant_ , are you even listening to me? I know that! I _know_ that! _Dad_ , I said that _I know!_ ” He lifts his head at the end, straightens up slightly, his free hand gesturing wildly, grasping at air. There is a long pause and then he sighs and very slowly slumps again. “I know, pai,” he says, sounding defeated. “I’m sorry. No, I understand. I know. Sorry. I get it. Tell mãe I –“ he cuts off abruptly, takes the phone away from his ear to look at it and then laughs, a hollow sort of sound. “Of course,” he says, dropping the phone on the coffee table and rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. He stays there for a moment, slumped and silent, and then he gets to his feet and starts to walk away, but not before he reaches out and slams his laptop shut with one hand. 

Mark frowns at his screen for a full minute before he shuts his own laptop and goes to find something to eat.

-

The next time he checks in it is dark again and he feels queasy, as if the lack of light is a sign that history is about repeat itself. He is tense for a few seconds and then there is a quiet, choked sound, and the camera adjust to the darkness so that he can see and he is tense for an entirely different reason.

Eduardo is lying in bed, the sheets tangle around his legs, and he is stroking his dick with one hand. His head is tipped back and his eyes are screwed shut and he’s breathing heavily. Mark watches him arch his back up slightly and bend one knee, his toes curling into the mattress, and thinks, distractedly, that he should probably stop watching. Instead, he turns up the volume. Eduardo flicks his thumb and groans, and Mark watches the fingers of his free hand grasp at the sheets and he has to reach down with one hand to squeeze himself through his pants.

Mark watches the whole thing, so enrapt that he doesn’t even notice Dustin coming into his office until he is right behind his shoulder saying, “Dude, porn at the office? I am so telling Chris,” at the exact same moment that Eduardo arches up off the mattress and comes with a muted cry. Mark yelps and closes the window and spends ten minutes threatening to fire Dustin if he tells anyone about this. 

Dustin tells everyone anyway.

-

The last time Mark checks in, it is a Wednesday and Eduardo is not the one using his laptop. Instead there is a girl, round faced and pretty, sitting on his couch and typing something very quickly. He has been watching for less than thirty seconds when the girl suddenly frowns and calls, “Edu? Why has the webcam light on your laptop come on?” 

Mark freezes in his seat. Eduardo wanders in wearing an oversized sweater and holding a spatula. He glances at the laptop and shrugs. “It just does that sometimes,” he says. “Do you want bacon?”

“Yes, please,” the girl says, turning to smile at him before frowning at the laptop again. 

Mark exits quickly and resolves, immediately, not to check again. Eduardo is happy. He’s proved it. It’s over.

(Later, Mark finds out the girl is his cousin. It doesn’t matter anyway.)

-

Except, of course, that it turns out not to be that simple, because two weeks later Eduardo RSVPs ‘yes’ to a conference in New York that Mark has to go to, too, and Chris spends three days lecturing him about good behavior and then Mark spends his entire flight trying to figure out how to behave like he hasn’t jerked off to the image of Eduardo lying in bed, stroking himself.

What ends up happening is that Mark avoids going anywhere near Eduardo – who looks a little bit jet-lagged, but otherwise good, nothing like he did at the conference that started it all – for most of the night, until, out of nowhere, Eduardo sits down casually in the seat next to his and says, “Hello, Mark.”

He’s holding a glass of scotch. Mark recognizes his cuff links. He blinks at him for a long moment and then says, “Hi.”

Eduardo looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “How are you?” he asks, pleasantly enough.

Mark feels like the whole thing might be a trap. Still, he can’t stop himself from answering. “Fine,” he says. “You?”  
“I’m good,” Eduardo says, smiling, and he opens his mouth to say something else, but before he can, Mark blurts,

“How’s your cat?”

Eduardo’s eyes go wide. “She’s fine,” he says. “How did you know –“

“I didn’t,” Mark says, realizing his mistake. “I – you have cat hair on your suit.”

“No, I don’t,” Eduardo says, and Mark scowls, because he’d been hoping the idea that his wardrobe wasn’t perfect would throw him off the scent. “Did Chris tell you?” Mark shakes his head. “Then how did you know?”

“I just always knew you’d end up a crazy cat guy,” Mark tries with a shrug.

“Fuck off,” Eduardo says. “How did you know?”

Mark stares at the scotch in his hand for a long moment and then he thinks, fuck it, and he says, “Did you know that webcams can be hacked?”

“What –“ Eduardo starts, but Mark cuts him off.

“Sometimes your webcam light goes on when you’re not using it,” Mark says, matter-of-fact.

Eduardo’s hand tenses on his glass for a moment and then he sets it down very carefully on the table, stands up, and says, “Can I talk to you outside for a minute?”

Mark thinks, _want to talk to me alone for a minute_ and then he nods and follows him out. Eduardo is very calm as he leads him out of the big ball room and into an empty hall and then, when they are safely away from everyone else, he spins around to face Mark and says, “You want to tell me why you’ve been hacking my webcam to spy on me?”

“I was – curious,” Mark says.

“Curious,” Eduardo repeats, and Mark nods sharply.

“I saw you, a year ago –“

“You’ve been doing this for a year?”

“No, only a couple of months, I –“

“Well, that’s better,” Eduardo cuts in dryly.

“I saw you at that conference in D.C., a year ago, and you looked fucking awful, okay, and then I couldn’t stop thinking about it and I just wanted to know if you were alright.”

“You were worried,” Eduardo translates.

“No,” Mark says. “I was curious. I wanted to know if you were happy. If someone was taking care of you.”

“I take care of me,” Eduardo says levelly.

“Okay,” Mark says.

“Okay.” 

There’s a pause and then Eduardo narrows his eyes and says, “What, exactly, did you see?”

“You made a pie,” Mark says quickly, and Eduardo’s eyebrows shoot up. “And you were very proud of it. And you cut yourself shaving, and you wore a yellow tie and then a green one and there was a purple one, too. Your wardrobe is very colorful. You never wear anything blue though.” He pauses and then when Eduardo doesn’t say anything he says, “And once you were talking to your dad and you seemed… sad. Um. And another time you were on the phone with Chris and you mentioned breaking up with someone?”

Eduardo is looking away, apparently lost in his own thoughts. Mark wonders if he is attempting to call up all the times that his webcam light went on without his permission. “Is that all?” He says finally.

“No,” Mark says, and Eduardo gives him an expectant look. “There was a girl, once, and you were making her bacon. And. Another time, you were – you were in bed, and you were …” Mark trails off, shrugs. Eduardo stares at him.

“I’m over you,” he says finally, though he doesn’t sound entirely sure.

“Okay,” Mark answers, because he doesn’t ever remember a time when Eduardo was under him, metaphorically or otherwise. “Why did you come talk to me tonight?”

This time Eduardo shrugs. “I figured I’d hated you long enough.”

“Oh,” Mark says.

Eduardo stares at him for a long time and then he says, “I’m happy. In case you’re still curious.”

“Okay,” Mark says.

“Stop spying on me.”

“Okay.”

There is a long silence, during which they just stare at each other. “The time,” Eduardo starts, and then stops, and then clears his throat and tries again, “The time I was in bed… Was I…?”

“Yes,” Mark says.

“I remember that,” Eduardo says. “The light.” He hesitates. “Did you…?”

“I was in the office,” Mark says, and then, because he’s really got nothing more to lose here, “I liked it though.”

Eduardo huffs out a laugh and rakes a hand through his hair. “What am I supposed to do with that?” He asks. Mark shrugs. Eduardo watches him for a long moment and then he says, “oh, fuck it,” and he leans forward, grabs Mark’s face in both hands, and kisses him.  
Mark freezes for a moment and then he grabs Wardo’s hips and pulls him in, kisses him back. 

“Are you still over me?” Mark asks when they break apart.

“Fuck you,” Eduardo says, breathless and laughing helplessly.

“Later,” Mark says.

Eduardo closes his eyes and laughs again. Mark fists his hands in his neatly pressed shirt, determined to mess it up. “We should go back to my hotel,” Eduardo says finally, “and find a new use for my webcam.”

-

“In case you were wondering,” Eduardo says later, as he flops back into bed beside Mark, still naked, after getting up to turn the webcam off. “I’m definitely going to tell Chris and Dustin about how creepy you are.”

“I thought so,” Mark says mournfully. 

“Don’t worry,” Eduardo tells him. “They’ll be too happy that we’re talking again to find time to be angry at you. Or make fun of you.”

-

They are not too happy to be angry at him. Or to make fun of him. Mark watches Eduardo nap on his couch, live and in person, and thinks that it is probably worth it.


End file.
